“Think. You’ll know. The Fair Folk always know.”
“Well, I don’t!” I shout.
But I do.
We talked for hours last night. It was the most perfect first, second, and third date rolled into one, from dinner until breakfast, and then several encores. He told me about his parents, about his being the first-born grandson and his grandmothers fighting over who could steal him for more hours in the kitchen, about warring Slavic and Italian cuisine, about his love of science and history, and about his life before moving here.
About Patsy. About Kep, the little Australian Shepherd he bought for them last Christmas, their “practice baby.” Kep is short for Kepler, like the scientist Kepler. And Patsy kept the dog.
He loved it. It was his little buddy, his best friend. Patsy kept it out of spite more than love.
And I know I can get it back.
A dog over me? No way.
Unless everything between us, everything last night and this morning, is just the banshee’s power dominating a sensitive.
“If he’s only enslaved by your song, the offer will open his ears, pet, and he’ll be free. Problem solved. Thank goodness you called. You should really call more often, Chloe.”
“Yeah. Okay, Mom. Gotta go.”
THE NEXT HOURS AREa hollow mockery of the joy I had. I fight between elation and hope, then misery and shame. I’ve never opened up like that with a guy, physically or emotionally. It felt so right.
Magic is so stupid sometimes.
There are customers to distract me, but only a few. I do better business at the Night Market and when the college students are around. They always come in to find something quirky or vintage to take away the sterility of their dorms or furnish their first apartments for cheap.
When Jared arrives as I’m showing the last customers out, he is beaming and dressed for the day in khakis and a light blue sweater.
I use this word all the time when I see him, but I can’t help it. He genuinely is adorable, the kind of man you’d want to run to immediately and hug.
“Hey, gorgeous!” He opens his arms wide, and I run to them, unable to stop myself in time.
One last hug before I break the spell.
One last kiss...
He handles that, slow and sweet, but hungry. Hinting.
“How sturdy are those counters?” he asks, and suddenly, all I can picture are my bare bottom marks being scrubbed off the glass top counter by the register.
No. That’s too far. “Not very sturdy,” I fib and back away, looking down.
I looked so cute today, too. My favorite chunky brown suede boots, and my denim skirt with the big pockets, and my white shirt that flows and billows like some old-timey poet’s... and now it won’t matter. “I forgot to do something the other night. See, I’m not all banshee.”
“I know. Your dad was half human, half... Fae folk? Or do I say fairy?” he asks, face serious. He wants to get this right. He’s a scientist, learning about new (new to him, anyway) beings.
It melts my heart how eager and open he is, to anything, to everything.
For a pretty girl who can make herself truly terrifying, you’d be surprised how a simple lack of fear is a big turn-on.
“You can deny my offer ifIofferyoua trade. Instead of marrying me, I can do something for you. Fame. Fortune.” I bite my lip. I can’t really do that, not exactly, not without some dark magic, and I won’t touch that.
But I know Jared. He won’t say yes.
He doesn’t disappoint. He laughs, then his smile dies. “You’re serious? No! No, honey, that’s crazy. Chloe, I’d never pick money or fame over you. Iwantyou. Come on, lunch at the first greasy spoon over the state border?” he asks, tugging my hand.
I stay firm, trying not to smile, not to let tears fall. Trying to be a statue.
